


The Hourglasses

by SaxSpieler



Series: Verǫld Vǫrðr [11]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 13:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8163403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaxSpieler/pseuds/SaxSpieler
Summary: In which Death gets annoyed about a couple of hourglasses.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of like the idea of Death being not too terribly on-board with the creation of an effectively immortal being like the World Guardian. Given how hostile he is towards Nomad, I feel like he would have a hard time warming up to the idea of another death-dodger hanging around, despite the WG being a Guardian of Guthix, saving him from Sliske, and all that jazz.
> 
> Takes place after Elegy (and Gravemakers, once I get back to writing that).

The scratching of ink-covered quill against parchment had been, for a while, the only sound in Death’s office, apart from the occasional clatter of bone as Muncher rolled over in his sleep.

Occasionally, Death would glance up from his rote list-making to study the hourglasses that lined the walls, looking only long enough to note who they belonged to and how much time each soul had left before they were to be reaped. He would then note the info on the ever-lengthening parchment in front of him, meticulously planning out the day’s reaping schedule.

He was a busy man after all, what with the forces of life and death to keep perfectly in balance.

 _A job made no easier by recent events,_ he thought bitterly, nearly tossing the quill back into its inkwell.

The order and organization of the Grim Underworld had been slowly returning to normal, the scattered souls that hadn’t been sheared to pieces put back in their rightful places. However, despite the around-the-clock work of Xenia, Korasi, Hazelmere, and countless others, some scales were only beginning to be re-balanced.

He drummed his fingers against the desktop and glanced over at a particular hourglass that had, annoyingly, sat on the _to-be-reaped_ shelf for far too long. The warped glass, its shifting and whirling contents kept from flowing into the bottom chamber by some unknowable force, glinted mockingly at him.

_You failed. Again._

_Pathetic bone construct._

He tore his eyes away before he became too rustled. Sighing, he combed over the other hourglasses, attempting to distract himself, the attempt almost working until his gaze landed on another hourglass, sitting opposite the first on the _to-be-closely-monitored-for-varying-reasons_ shelf.

Thick, sturdy glass encased the sand within, which flowed sluggishly, if at all. If he turned his head the right way, Death swore he could see tiny verdant vines curling around and through the sand, keeping it all in place.

Similar states, despite different methods of creation.

Finger bones curling against the wood of his desk, he peered up at the stained glass window to his left - the one depicting Guthix placing the job, or burden, of Gielinor’s psychopomp on a freshly-dead Harold’s shoulders.

_I understand why you did it, Guthix. But that does not mean I have to condone, or appreciate, what you did. You created an abomination. A death-defying abomination. As if one plaguing this world wasn’t enough._

_Her time has come again and again since you placed the mantle on her shoulders. She should be resting in Valhalla now with her mother._

_But no. She lives on, her soul evasive and near impossible to reap._

_Just like him._

_I understand your wishes. Your reasoning._

_But._

_But…_

_If I see her step out of line, if she begins to walk the path of that arrogant soul thief instead of just sympathizing with it, my scythe will be at her neck._

_I am sorry, but I cannot let any of…this…come to pass again. If you were still here, you would understand._

_I can only hope you would understand._

With that, he plucked the quill back from the inkwell and resumed his work.


End file.
